


Art for More Than Art's Sake

by Magic_8ball (Nevermore)



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:42:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore/pseuds/Magic_8ball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael, Fi, and Jesse help Sam help a client.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art for More Than Art's Sake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LithiumDoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumDoll/gifts).



> ‘Burn Notice’ is a copyright of Fox Television Studios and Fuse Entertainment. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyrights. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

**I. Plans and Schemes**

“Thanks for coming by so quickly, guys,” Michael says, nodding to Fiona and Jesse as they walk up to the table.

“Not like I had anything else to do,” Jesse shrugs.

“Speak for yourself,” Fi says. “I had to cancel a transaction with the type of guy who isn’t going to be in a hurry to reschedule.” She leans back against the plush barstool, ducking her head into the shade of the small umbrella overhead, and flashes the kind of disappointed pout that Michael knows means he should start looking for a restaurant with a nice menu and liberal concealed weapons policy.

“You have a client?” Jesse asks Michael, staying focused on business.

“I do,” Sam says. “A friend of mine had something stolen.”

“Is your friend one of those lonely ladies you spend so much time with?” Fi teases.

“As a matter of fact, Rosa is one of my friends,” Sam replies, “but that doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Of course not,” Jesse mutters.

“What was stolen, Sam?” Michael asks.

“A bronze sculpture of a horse, some gold and jewels set into it,” Sam explains. “Ancient Persian, a real rare piece. Very valuable.”

“Someone who can afford that should be able to pay for a private detective, or at least a solid insurance policy,” Fiona says.

“No insurance, no investigators,” Sam replies, taking a long, satisfying sip from his bottle of MGD.

“And what do we know?” Jesse asks.

“The guy who stole the sculpture is in the Delta Force,” Sam explains. “Name’s Pete McKee. As far as his superiors are concerned, he’s here on leave, and from what I hear he has to move the piece in the next twenty-four hours or risk going AWOL.”

“What the hell is a Delta doing stealing Persian art in Miami?” Fiona asks. She looks from Sam, to Michael, and back again, clearly suspecting that there’s something she isn’t being told.

“I worked with a few of those Delta guys when I was in counter-intelligence,” Jesse says. “A bunch of them liked taking their leave in Miami. There are only a few hoels he’s likely to be staying in.”

“He’s at a cousin’s place downtown,” Sam responds. “I already checked it out. Unimpressive apartment building, nothing special.”

“And we have a plan?” Fi asks. “Involving me and Jesse?”

“Nothing you haven’t done before,” Michael assures her.

 

 **II. Reacquisition**

“The arguing couple routine isn’t exactly the most original idea,” Jesse mutters as he and Fiona walk down the seventh floor hallway, turning a corner and checking out Apartment 723. It was at the end of the hall, away from the elevators and staircases, in as defensible a position as possible given the fact that the building wasn’t designed to face a frontal assault.

“Think of it as one of the classics,” Fiona snaps. She stops outside apartment 725, gestures toward 724 across the hall, and knocks quickly. When no one answers within ten seconds, she starts toward 723 as Jesse knocks on the door of 724.

“She’s at the door now,” Jesse mutters into the radio.

“We’re ready up here,” Michael responds.

Jesse nods to Fi, and knocks again on 724 – hoping no one answers – just as Fiona knocks on 723. Jesse’s luck holds and no one answers the door in front of him, but it seems to take less than two seconds for the door in front of Fiona to open, revealing McKee standing inside.

“What do you need?” he asks, his eyes taking in every detail of the petite woman in front of him, instinctively engaging in a threat analysis even as starts undressing her with his eyes.

“Well, I live down the hall in 707, and I have a bit of a problem,” Fiona explains.

“That isn’t my problem,” he says. He makes a token move toward closing the door, but clearly leaves her an opportunity to give him a reason to invite her in.

Fiona sticks her foot in the doorway, taking advantage of the opening he’s left her, and continues with the script, hoping to buy Michael and Sam the time they need. “Just let me explain,” she says. She flips her hair back flirtatiously and spreads a coy smile on her face. “I have a ferret… actually, it’s my boyfriend’s ferret… and I guess there’s a hole in the closet that we didn’t notice or something.”

“And the ferret climbed through,” McKee guesses. “You have to be careful with those things.”

“Yeah, that’s what my boyfriend said,” Fiona replies. “But he’s the one who said it was okay to let Fungo out to play.”

“No! Not to play, like you weren’t keeping an eye on him!” Jesse yells from down the hall outside 724. He immediately starts toward them, and out of the corner of her eye Fiona notices McKee move his left foot a few inches forward, shifting his weight almost imperceptibly in preparation for combat. “I said you could take him out to lap train him. By definition, lap training means you have to keep him in your lap the whole time.”

“I wanted some popcorn!” Fiona growls as Jesse walks right up to her, looming over her, glaring into her eyes. “He was only alone for a few minutes.”

 

\------------

 

“Just be ready to pull me up in case something goes wrong,” Michael tells Sam as begins to lower himself from the balcony of apartment 823.

“You got it, Mike,” Sam replies, listening closely as Jesse and Fiona ratchet up their argument a few decibels. It only takes Michael a few moments to rappel down to the balcony below, and from there he swings out toward the air conditioner set into the wall.

 _Most people think of a window-unit air conditioner as a machine that takes hot air from outside, cools it off, and blows it into the room where it’s set up. What actually happens is that air from inside is circulated through the air conditioner, over a set of condenser coils that cool it, and then blown back out into the same room the air came from. But if you cut the line from the compressor, you can easily slip a small hose into the interior portion of an air conditioner, making it possible to filter the anesthetic of your choice into the target room. By the time the apartment’s resident realizes the air conditioner isn’t blowing cold air into the apartment anymore, he’s usually sound asleep._

It takes Michael less than thirty seconds to modify the air conditioning, and by the look on Sam’s face he guesses that Jesse and Fiona still have McKee’s undivided attention at the front door.

“We’re ready here, Fi,” Sam says once Michael is back on the balcony for 823. Michael turns the gas on, checks that it’s flowing properly down through the tube and into the air conditioning unit in the apartment below, and follows Sam out through apartment 823.

 

\------------

 

“This would never have happened if you hadn’t insisted on keeping that stupid comic book collection!” Fiona screams at Jesse. By this time, she can tell that McKee is somewhere between bored and irritated, and with Michael done she needs to wrap things up so that McKee isn’t suspicious before the gas filtering in through the air conditioner does its job.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jesse fires back.

“You keep them in those heavy boxes and pile them up in the closet,” Fiona explains. “You know I can’t move them, so how could you expect me to find the hole in the closet wall? You should have checked on that yourself!”

“She’s right,” McKee says. “Maybe you should go back and check your apartment again. And don’t come back around here,” he adds meaningfully, stepping back and closing the door, forcing Fiona back into the hallway.

“Yeah… Sorry, man,” Jesse says. Then he turns to Fiona. “Honey, maybe we should leave this guy alone and check the apartment again.”

“Oh, don’t you ‘honey’ me,” Fiona growls, turning and storming off down the hall.

“Sam, Mike, we’ll meet you guys out front by the Hyundai in about fifteen minutes,” Jesse says once he’s around the corner in the hall. “Just have to give our neighbor enough time to fall asleep before we reacquire some art.”

 

 **III. Mojitos and Beers**

“Well, thanks again guys,” Sam says, standing from the table and gesturing to Jesse. “You coming along?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Jesse replies, following Sam out of the bar.

“The two of them seem to be getting along better,” Fi notes once she and Michael are alone.

“Better than Jesse gets along with me, you mean?”

“Better than when Jesse was thinking about killing us all,” she clarifies. She takes a long sip from her mojito, and continues. “It’s one thing to help Sam with that lightweight bodyguard job they’re going to now, but helping him with one of his lady friends?”

“This wasn’t about one of Sam’s lady friends,” Michael explains.

“You guys lied to me?” A dangerous gleam lights up in Fi’s eyes, and Michael knows he has to clarify quickly.

“Sam said all that because he’s pretty tight-lipped about his time in the service,” Michael tells her. “This was personal for him. And he’ll work with Jesse, but at least for now he’d prefer not to share anything that’s important.”

“Then why are you telling me this?”

“Because he wanted me to explain to you, so you know how much he appreciates your help,” Michael says. “Rosa’s son, Jimmy, was in Sam’s SEAL unit. Kid saved Sam’s life on his first mission, and Sam always felt like he owed him. Rosa is the reason Sam retired in Miami.”

“Because Jimmy isn’t around anymore,” Fi guesses.

“Killed in Fallujah in 2003. He left the navy and joined the army when the Deltas offered him a shot,” Michael says.

“And McKee was in his unit,” Fiona says, putting the pieces together for herself.

“They were in Baghdad ahead of our soldiers, and they picked up a few souvenirs.”

“That’s how you describe priceless ancient Persian artifacts?” Fiona asks.

“We don’t have official diplomatic relations with Iran,” Michael reminds her. “It’s not like there’s any easy way to return the sculptures home.”

“So that justifies theft?” Fi asks. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

“Sam had the sculpture appraised years ago,” Michael says. “He told Rosa what it’s worth, but she doesn’t care. To her it’s just the last thing her son sent home before he was killed. She’ll never sell it.”

“Good,” Fi says. “I hope she never does. And I hope no one else is ever stupid enough to try stealing it from her.”

 

 __

Fin


End file.
